<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>fade into view by ivyrobinson</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864059">fade into view</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson'>ivyrobinson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Boy Good Girl, Boarding School AU, F/M, Modern AU, anya plus hussies friendship goodness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:48:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>boarding school au. anya has been sheltered. dmitry has a motorcycle. etc etc.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 &amp; Broadway), Dunya/Paulina (Anastasia Broadway)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. chapter one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In retrospect, Anya and Dunya should’ve laid out some ground rules. But as someone who has never been in the situation to need them, it did not occur to her that she and her new roommate may need to create them. So instead, on a Friday evening, she finds herself returning from the library- still in uniform as she had headed straight there- to a very normal looking door to her dorm room. Unlocking it, pushing the door opening and finding Dunya half naked on the bed, with a blonde head between her legs. </p>
<p>Anya squeaks- whether it’s an I’m sorry or just a noise, she’s not even sure what it is that comes out and closes the door. She has nowhere to go and very much does not want to go back into her room at the moment. She looks around the hallway helplessly, she doesn’t really have any friends yet besides Dunya. </p>
<p>So she just slides down the wall to sit in the hallway and...wait?</p>
<p>Thinking better of it, Anya lifts her butt up and slides further down the hall a little further from her room. The awkwardness of having to see her roommate anytime soon may just kill her. </p>
<p>She’s not certain how long she’s sitting in the hallway, contemplating if going back to her family’s home is preferable to having to face Dunya again, and her hands pressed against her face as though it could stop the blush that has taken up residence on her face, when she hears a, “Oh, Christ.”  </p>
<p>Anya peaks between her fingers to see an auburn braid, and then removes her fingers to see a girl standing there. Marfa Spektor, one of Dunya’s friends. </p>
<p>Marfa looks at her, and then at her dorm room door and shrugs, “Thank god it’s not happening in my room.” </p>
<p>That meant the blonde was Paulina. Oh. She had thought they were just friends. </p>
<p>“You want to get out of here?” She offers Anya a hand. </p>
<p>Anya takes it, smoothing down her skirt. “I’m still in uniform.” </p>
<p>“That’ll get the pervs,” she says, stepping back to assess Anya. “You can wear something of mine.” </p>
<p>She warily regards Marfa’s shorts and crop top, and thinks of her mother’s strictly modest dress code she enforces upon her daughters. “I don’t know.” </p>
<p>Marfa laughs, as though she can tell Anya has never worn anything that went above her knee. “I promise I won’t put you in anything that makes you look terrible.” </p>
<p>There were a lot of different ways to interpret that promise. </p>
<p>“Where are we going?” She asks before considering to take a step to follow Marfa. </p>
<p>Marfa turns her head, looking back over her shoulder at her, “Somewhere that’ll help you forget whatever part it was that you walked in on.”</p>
<p>Anya gives in and follows. It seems like the lesser evil of the two options. </p>
<p>Later on, she finds herself yet again regretting a choice, as she tugs on the leather miniskirt Marfa has outfitted on her, as though half a centimeter will suddenly make it more appropriate. She’s wearing a fitted white v-neck crop top, and chunky black heeled boots. Because somehow she and Marfa were the same size, and Anya could fit in Paulina’s shoes. She had protested borrowing Polly’s shoes, until Marfa insisted, saying Polly owed Anya anyway technically. </p>
<p>Then her hair and makeup were all wrong for the outfit, Marfa decided, and tugged out Anya’s braids, straightening her hair, and painting her lips a bright red. </p>
<p>Anya had come to St Petersburg Academy to reinvent herself, and when she had glanced at herself in the mirror before they left she certainly looked different. </p>
<p> Now Marfa is leading her to a suspect looking neighborhood and even a more suspect looking business that most likely is a bar but there’s nothing outside announcing what the business is or what it’s called. She has a terrible feeling about all of this and wants to run back to the dorms, no matter what fate may await her in her room. Marfa must sense this because her grip on Anya’s wrist tightens. </p>
<p>“Stop fussing, you look hot,” Marfa scolds her. Anya’s not certain if she’s ever been scolded with a compliment before. </p>
<p>They are almost definitely going to get arrested, mugged, killed or worse. Anya hates to give her mother any cause to be right, and she fought so hard for years to go to an actual school. </p>
<p>“Have you never been anywhere you’re not supposed to be before?” Marfa asks her, as she leads her down an alley. </p>
<p>Anya considers this but she doesn’t think sneaking out of her room to watch movies after midnight with her little brother is exactly what Marfa is asking at the moment. “Not really.” </p>
<p>“You’re adorable,” she says, sounding like she’s mostly not mocking her, but it’s hard to tell. “Where did you go to school before St Pete’s?” </p>
<p>“Home,” she says, knowing the reaction but there’s no real way to lie about it. “I was homeschooled with my sisters and brother.” </p>
<p>Marfa gasps in delight, “That’s precious.” Then they’re at some sort of door guarded by some sort of man who looks like he could easily break all their bones. However, Marfa just gives him a friendly smile and a quick wave and he steps aside to let them through. </p>
<p>Once they’re past him, Marfa leans back towards Anya to tell her, “I know all the good spots to get into trouble.”</p>
<p>Clearly. </p>
<p>Anya just nods as they get up to the bar and Marfa orders for them, like she’s a worldly and confident woman of legal drinking age instead of a sixteen year old delinquent. She tries to push back the shot to Marfa when it’s offered to her. </p>
<p>Marfa pushes it back to her, “Do you ever want to look Dun in the eye again?” </p>
<p>Anya braces herself and downs the shot, choking on it. Marfa pats her back sympathetically and orders them each a drink. </p>
<p>She leads Anya further back into another, thankfully emptier, room. She heads over to a tall figure, throwing darts at the board. </p>
<p>“Spektor,” he greets Marfa, giving a cursory glance to Anya. “I thought I told you to keep the boarding school crowd away.”  </p>
<p>Anya’s not certain if it’s the shot she just had or the terrible lighting of the bar, but Marfa’s friend (?) is the most ridiculously attractive guy she’s ever seen. </p>
<p>Marfa smirks, and Anya is genuinely concerned that she can read Anya’s thoughts, “Mitya, this is Nastya. Nastya, this is Dmitry, he’s not as grumpy as he likes to pretend.” </p>
<p>Anya is confused as to why she picks that particular diminutive to introduce her as but she doesn’t really find her voice to correct her in time. </p>
<p>“Ah Russian,” Dmitry says, stepping forward. She stops herself from taking a step back. “I guess that’s alright then.”</p>
<p>She relaxes a degree, she’s not certain why but Russian-Americans are at least something she’s familiar with. Anya takes a sip, unsure of what else she should do, and resists the urge to fidget. She’s never worn so little out in public before and she can feel every inch of exposed skin. </p>
<p>Marfa rolls her eyes when Anya asks how Russian is he (whether or not he’s Russian is not a question with a name like Dmitry) in Russian, but Dmitry just smirks and responds in the language that he was born in St Petersburg and moved when he was six, and asks her the same. St Petersburg as well, when she was three. </p>
<p>“I already need another drink,” Marfa announces, before turning on her heel and going back to the other part of the bar. </p>
<p>Reminding Anya she is not basically alone in a strange town, in a bar, with a (albeit, handsome) stranger. Crap. She takes a sip of the drink. It’s sweet, and wonders if Marfa even ordered anything alcoholic for her. Then remembers that is a trap of alcohol and maybe consuming it will not help matters but rather make it worse.</p>
<p>Dmitry regards her patiently, and she wonders if she looks as panicked as she feels and if it’s too late for her to try to follow wherever Marfa disappeared to. He holds out some darts and switches back to English, “Want to play?”</p>
<p>There’s not much else to do, so she sets her drink down and takes them from her. She steps in front of him, even with her heels on he’s a good half a foot taller than her. </p>
<p>Anya lines up the shot and...bullseye. </p>
<p>“If you’re that good,” Dmitry says, leaning forward. “You’re supposed to pretend not to be, to hustle the other player’s.” </p>
<p>She turns her head, and their faces are close together. “I can’t.” She says, focusing back on the board. This next throw might prove this statement wrong, as her nerves are raw and exposed. “I’m a freak of nature, my siblings tell me. I can’t be bad at it.” </p>
<p>She throws the dart and it lands next to the one she threw before. </p>
<p>“Remind me to use you as a secret weapon next time I need it,” Dmitry says, taking the last two darts from her. His land close to hers but not quite in the dead center. “Is your name really Nastya?” </p>
<p>“Anastasia,” she nods. “I usually go by Anya, but I think Marfa finds that boring.” </p>
<p>Anya blushes as she says it, because the subtext there is that Marfa finds her boring. </p>
<p>“Anya,” he repeats, and she notices where his jaw dips into a dimple. </p>
<p>This trip was going to get her way more into trouble than she could have anticipated.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya awakens in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar headache, and the room spins when she tries to sit up and she might vomit, but every single rule of etiquette drilled into her rebels against the thought of throwing up somewhere that’s not her home. </p>
<p>She should figure out where she is. </p>
<p>She’s still in the clothes Marfa dressed her in the night before, though her skirt is slightly twisted from sleeping in it and her feet are bare. </p>
<p>The comforter throne over her is a dark maroon plaid and she can’t tell much else about the room she’s in and she would panic except that would worsen her headache and nausea. </p>
<p>“You’re a bit wild there, Romanova,” comes a voice from across the room. A male voice, a loud whisper.</p>
<p>Must be Marfa’s friend from last night she had played darts with and drank with and...well, that’s all she can manage to remember at the moment. </p>
<p>What was his name? Something Russian...Dmitry?</p>
<p>She reaches up and scratches her scalp as a shadow passes over her and she’s handed a glass of water. “Where’s Marfa?” </p>
<p>“Not certain,” he answers and hands her two white pills she recognizes as aspirin. She probably shouldn’t so blindly accept things from strangers but he was friends with Marfa and she seems to be intact. “You texted her last night, but I don’t think you looked at your phone again after we left.” </p>
<p>Anya slowly sips her water, “Where did we go?” </p>
<p>“You wanted to take a motorcycle ride,” Dmitry answers, and is sure to add, “I drove, since I was still sober.” </p>
<p>She frowns at the implication, “Did I want to drive?” </p>
<p>“Desperately,” he teases, then offers, “Will still teach you sometime if you want.” </p>
<p>She considers it. She has no idea if she’s ever had a desire to ride a motorcycle before. She’s never really had the freedom to want things without her parents approval before. </p>
<p>Anya with a freedom apparently is a different breed of Anya completely. </p>
<p>“Get back to me,” she decides, finishing off the glass of water. He takes it and disappears into the other room. “I thought I was supposed to drink coffee for a hangover.” </p>
<p>She assumes that’s what the splitting pain in her skull was when she woke up. Between the aspirin and water it’s faded a bit. Her mouth no longer feels dry either. </p>
<p>“You’re supposed to hydrate if you’re hungover,” he corrects her. </p>
<p>“Why didn’t you take me back to the dorms?” </p>
<p>“You were exceptionally tipsy,” he answers. “Didn’t feel like getting you kicked out of your fancy boarding school or arrested for being on the premises.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” she feels around and finds her phone tucked halfway under the pillow. “Do you live here alone?” </p>
<p>Now that she’s more alert, they seem to be in a studio apartment. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he looks around. “I got emancipated when I was fifteen.” </p>
<p>She opens her mouth to ask more questions but judging by his expression that would be rude. She instead focuses on her phone, where she has several texts from Marfa, the last one telling her to enjoy Dmitry. </p>
<p>She flushes red when reading it and quickly locks her phone again. </p>
<p>As it is she’s obviously been a drunken fool around him all night, her normally contained chaotic nature exposed. It’s been an issue for her family for as long as she can remember. </p>
<p>Dmitry clearly picks up on it, “What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>Her one sort of friend at her new school clearly thought she had left to hook up with a boy she had just met. Clearly there is a part of her had considered it last night, flirting with him over darts and begging for a ride on his motorcycle. </p>
<p>She wonders if she can be that kind of girl instead of the boring one she’s been all her life. The one she’s continuously been coached into being under her mother’s strict and watchful eye. </p>
<p>“Did I do anything else embarrassing last night?” She asks. Part of her doesn’t want to know, the other part would rather know so she knows who and what she has to avoid in the future. </p>
<p>“Nothing at all,” he promises, sitting on the edge of the bed. Then proves he’s a liar by adding, “Tried to kiss me though.” </p>
<p>Anya resists the urge to cover her face with a pillow. Maybe she can play it off as a much cooler, sexier version of her that drinks and disappears with hot guys without a second thought. “Did you let me?” </p>
<p>He hesitates and she blinks, “Only for a moment. You were pretty tipsy.” </p>
<p>“A true gentleman,” and she wonders if her lips can remember the feel of his brushing against hers. Still in the headspace of trying to be much cooler than she actually is and the ending result is most likely she’ll have to avoid him forever so she says, “Not tipsy now.” </p>
<p>His gaze flicks down to her lips and he nods and then he leans in and oh yes she does have a vague recollection of their brief kiss earlier. </p>
<p>Anya grasps his shirt and scoots closer to him and he laughs against his lips and she thinks it’s rather nice to kiss this boy with the sun streaming into the room as her head clears up. </p>
<p>Even nicer when he puts his hand on her thigh and she covers it with her own hand and slides it up. Maybe she is a bit wilder than she previously believed. </p>
<p>Anya’s not quite certain how to ask for more but he seems rather content to spend the morning kissing her. If only her nature wasn’t prone to impatience. </p>
<p>“This is quite the end to an unusual night,” he says as her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his night. </p>
<p>“What?” She asks, but doesn’t let him answer because she’s kissing him again. “Don’t all of Marfa’s boarding school friends throw themselves at you?” </p>
<p>“They do,” he confirms, his lips pressing below her ear. “Never thrown myself back at one.” </p>
<p>“Is that what you’re doing?” She asks, his hand warm against her back under her shirt. His fingers calloused against her smooth skin. “Throwing yourself at me?”</p>
<p>Dmitry leans forward, and she lays back down against the bed, and he’s hovering over her. “Certainly trying to.” </p>
<p>Anya laughs, finding courage in his words, “Try harder.“</p>
<p>It comes out sounding like a dare she was always quick to issue to her siblings and their friends. She was forever getting in trouble for it as a child. </p>
<p>Her fingers tug on the edge of his shirt and he moves back to pull it off him before he’s on her again. She’s learning the language of asking for more rather quickly. He pulls at the zipper of her leather skirt, it’s twisted to the side and she wriggles free of it. </p>
<p>She likes embracing her own boldness and fearlessness. </p>
<p>Anya wraps her legs around him as his hips rock against her, his mouth on hers again and thinks this is exactly the sort of trouble her parents were afraid she’d get into the moment she was on her own.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was not the overwhelming emotion Anya was expecting to feel after losing her virginity, but reality was almost always stranger than anything you could actually imagine. She wonders if she should be self conscious, or feel any regret. She waits for all the emotions her mother and older sisters warned her of but they never come. </p>
<p>So she’s just left with this one. </p>
<p>“I’m starving,” she says out loud, and Dmitry laughs against her shoulder. </p>
<p>Anya’s coming down from a high and doesn’t care what words have passed her mouth for a while now. She doesn’t want to remember what things she may have said in the heat of the moment, in case they triggered the shame she’s always been told to feel. </p>
<p>“I don’t really have anything,” he tells her, and presses his lips against her shoulder. “But I do have some cereal.” </p>
<p>She worries that her stomach will rumble if she doesn’t eat something soon and apparently that feels more embarrassing to her than her currently undressed state. </p>
<p>“Is it the good cereal at least?” Anya asks him, and he leans over and kisses her. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he says when he pulls away. “More sugar than substance.” </p>
<p>“You sure know how to take care of a girl,” she tells him, as he gets up. </p>
<p>She wants to wonder how many other girls have been like her but that’s not a question the Anya she’s currently trying to be would ask. </p>
<p>“You should never be with a boy who tries to give you healthy cereal,” Dmitry tells her seriously. “Milk?” </p>
<p>“Yes, please,” she says, and sits up, sheet against her to accept the bowl and spoon he gives her before climbing back in. “Haven’t had Cookie Crisp in forever.” </p>
<p>“I keep only the finest of cereal in my cupboards,” he says, and takes the bite of cereal she offers him. </p>
<p>She wonders how many of her sisters have lost their virginities to a one nightstand while still slightly hungover and then ate cereal with them in bed. Probably none of them. </p>
<p>Her phone buzzes and she finds where it got knocked to the ground, and finds another message from Marfa. She sends a message that she’s still with Dmitry and she’s fine, and Marfa responds she’ll head over to pick her up. </p>
<p>“Times up?” Dmitry correctly guesses. </p>
<p>“I think my absence is making her anxious,” Anya says, but continues to eat her cereal. Once Marfa gets ahold of her, who knows when she’ll be free to eat again. Or maybe Marfa finds this to be normal behavior of her friends. “Or she doesn’t want me being missing to be traced back to her.” </p>
<p>Dmitry laughs, and kisses her again before taking her empty bowl of milk away from her. He looks all tousled and beautiful. </p>
<p>She’s tempted to hide in this apartment, in this bed all day. </p>
<p>“Probably shouldn’t have left you alone for so long last night,” he points out. </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Anya says, laying back and stretching instead of getting out of bed to get dressed to meet Marfa. “Think it worked out pretty well for both of us.” </p>
<p>She reaches over to tug on his hand, and he crawls back onto the bed, hovering over her again. She likes the feel of the weight of him on top of her. Her hands slide up his arms and to his back. She’s trying to memorize every detail to hold onto when she’s back to being herself. </p>
<p>“I won’t argue with that,” he agrees, nose nuzzling against her cheek. “How long do you have before Marfa arrives?” </p>
<p>Anya doesn’t bother looking at her cell phone, “She can wait.” </p>
<p>She’s come this far, may as well allow herself one last indulgence before she heads back to her reality. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Marfa’s not pleased with having to wait, she’s sitting outside on the curb when Anya makes her way down in her borrowed clothes from the night before. </p>
<p>Her friend lets out a low whistle, “Look at this walk of shame you’ve got going on.” </p>
<p>“I didn’t have any other clothes,” Anya pointed out. “Dmitry was a perfect gentleman last night.” </p>
<p>Technically he was a perfect gentleman this morning as well, but in a very different way. </p>
<p>“You’re wearing something you didn’t wear last night,” Marfa tells her. </p>
<p>Anya frowns and looks down, wondering if she had accidentally worn something of Dmitry’s but no she’s still in the leather mini skirt and white crop top she’d borrowed from Marfa. “What?”  </p>
<p>Marfa reaches over and presses her thumb against a red mark above Anya’s breast. “This hickey, right here.” </p>
<p>“Oh,” Anya says, and Marfa cackles. She hadn’t even noticed or thought to look for such things before leaving his apartment that morning. </p>
<p>To be fair, she had made herself late for meeting up with Marfa and felt bad and had rushed down to meet her. At least Marfa was the type to get more amused than judgmental. </p>
<p>“You are something, Nastya,” Marfa throws her arm around her. “You went from awkward and blushing after catching Dunya and Polly to hooking up with Dmitry in less than twelve hours. Had I known you had it in you I would’ve done last night differently.” </p>
<p>Marfa sounds in awe of her, and it lessens some of Anya’s anxiety about everything. </p>
<p>“How was your night?” Anya asks, trying to steer the conversation away from her. </p>
<p>Her friend laughs, “It was fine until I got a series of drunken texts, and I panicked I had somehow lost the newest princess of St Pete’s.” </p>
<p>She bites her lower lip and frowns, “Did I ruin your night?” </p>
<p>“No,” Marfa admits. “If you were with Mitya, you were fine. Didn’t expect this reaction out of either of you.” </p>
<p>It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’s hooked up with a lot of her friends, despite what he had said earlier that morning. But she lets the question die. </p>
<p>“I’ve been told I’m a little chaotic,” she confesses. “And get into more trouble than I should.”</p>
<p>Trouble to her family were things much more minor than underage drinking and one night stands, so she can only imagine. The compromise to Anya going to school was going to a boarding school of good reputation. </p>
<p>“You don’t say!” Marfa gives her shoulders a squeeze, “Romanova, I am so excited for this school year with you, you wouldn’t believe.” </p>
<p>Well at least that was now two people who believed her to be much cooler than she actually was. She’s a bit relieved Marfa doesn’t really ask for details about her time with Dmitry, and instead stops at a café to pick up breakfast and then head back to the dorms so she can go back to looking like a proper student.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m so sorry,” Dunya Volkov is full of apologies since Anya returned back to the dorms, and more after Anya had showered and dressed back into her own clothes. She followed her around until Anya had finally given in and allowed her to buy her lunch. “I’m the worst roommate and this is a horrible introduction to St Pete’s.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” Anya insists, not for the first time. It’s endearing how upset Dunya is about the night before, which is better than having a roommate who would shrug and tell her to get over it. “Honestly, it allowed Marfa and I a chance to bond.” </p><p>“Marf is the best,” Dunya is quick to agree. Then begins rambling some more, “I really am sorry, and I will stop apologizing for it but Polly and I aren’t allowed to see each other outside of school- or in it, technically, and I just- she just-“ she lets out a heavy sigh. “I just love her so much.”</p><p>That makes Anya smile, “How long have you known each other?” </p><p>“Years,” she says, a soft smile on her face. “Marfa, Polly and I are from the same place. My Aunt and Uncle aren’t really a fan of the whole…” she waves her fry around before leaning in to lower to a whisper. “Lesbian thing so they sent me to boarding school to deal with me.” </p><p>Anya arches an eyebrow at that, confused, “The same one Polly goes to?” </p><p>“They didn’t know that’s where her dad and stepmom were sending her,” Dunya says with a roll of her eyes. “They don’t know she goes here but they think catholic boarding school is going to straighten me out.” </p><p>Sending a lesbian to an all girls school sounded like it could be counter productive. </p><p>“I can see it’s working,” she says and Dunya giggles. </p><p>“My aunt used to be so cool,” Dunya tells her with a frown. “Really. Then she married some white Christian freak and it’s been all downhill from there.” </p><p>Impulsively, Anya reaches over and squeezes Dunya’s hand. “Why don’t we switch?” </p><p>“Families?” Dunya asks, confused. </p><p>“No,” Anya laughs, good naturedly. “Rooms. I can take Polly’s place in the room with Marfa and Polly can take my place.” </p><p>Dunya’s eyes light up at that before deflating. </p><p>“Think the school would probably notify our guardians of the changes and they won’t go for that,” she says. “Also my uncle loves that I’m living with a rich straight girl from a powerful family. Assuming you’re straight? You don’t have to answer.” </p><p>Anya considers it and shrugs, “Never really thought about it before but I do like guys.” One in particular at the moment, and the fact that Dunya hasn’t asked her about her night means l Marfa didn’t mention where Anya had spent here. Then she leans in to say the same words she utters to her siblings right before she gets them all in trouble. “But Dun, the school and your families don’t have to know.” </p><p>“You mean…?” Dunya begins, catching up what Anya was offering, “You officially live with me and Polly officially lives with Marf?” </p><p>She nods and Dunya leaps up and hugs her. </p><p>“I don’t deserve you as a friend,” she tells her, squeezing her one more time before releasing her. “I am really sorry about last night.” </p><p>If nothing else the entire experience got her new friends and an adventure she wouldn’t have had otherwise. </p><p>But then another thought occurs to her. “Should probably make sure Marfa is okay with it first.” </p><p>-</p><p>When asked about switching roommates, Marfa had no opinion or issues with it. Anya had worried slightly that she had annoyed Marfa the night with the whole running off with her friend thing, but Marfa was as easy going as she seemed. </p><p>She’s quiet though, as Anya loads the weeks worth of clothes into the drawer Polly had emptied for her. They kept the majority of their belongings in their official room in case of a sudden parent or guardian visit so they didn’t have to change up too much. </p><p>She’s got her laptop open with her earbuds in as she watches something. </p><p>Once done Anya wonders if she should do the same but finds she has restless energy and doesn’t do well to keep to herself. She’s grown up with five siblings and doesn’t really know the meaning of alone time. </p><p>She sits on the edge of Marfa’s bed and leans back to see what she’s watching. </p><p>“Did you want to watch?” Marfa asks, amused as she pulls her earbuds out. </p><p>Anya eagerly scoots on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard as Marfa switches to the laptop speakers. </p><p>“Sorry, I don’t do well on my own,” Anya explains. “And I don’t know how to be quiet or keep to myself. Did you say you were an only child?” </p><p>“I am,” Marfa answers. “And it’s fine, Polly and Dunya aren’t exactly known for their reticence either.” </p><p>Slightly comforted by that, Anya relaxes a fraction. </p><p>“I’ve been told I should come with a warning,” she goes on to say. </p><p>“I’ve figured that out on my own,” Marfa says with a smirk. She pauses the movie, apparently understanding Anya was going to make it impossible to actually work. “Did you want to talk about what happened with Dmitry?” </p><p>Yes and no. Because she’s afraid if she starts talking the floodgates will open and she’ll sound like an idiot with a school girl crush. But she’s also spent the entire day trying not to think or talk about Dmitry so it’s built up inside of her. </p><p>“He took me on a motorcycle ride,” she says simply. </p><p>“Yes, to his apartment,” Marfa says, reaching over to poke her on the side. “And then?” </p><p>“And then I fell asleep,” Anya answers. “And woke up with a slight hangover.” </p><p>“When did the hickey come into play?” She asks, looping her arm through Anya’s. </p><p>It reminds her of late night chats with her sisters and friends back home. She’s glad to have found some sort of version of that here. </p><p>It helps keep the homesickness at bay, even if coming here was something she had to claw her way into having. </p><p>“This morning,” Anya admits, since Marfa was witness to it before she had put on something that covered it. Plus it’s not like she can go to her sisters about this sort of thing, if she told Olga she lost her virginity, she’d be pulled out of boarding school so fast. </p><p>Marfa squeezes her arm, “Did you enjoy yourself, at least?” </p><p>“Yes,” she answers. “Twice.” </p><p>Marfa lets out a bark of laughter. </p><p>Anya tries not to think about the enjoyment of those two times but she feels her face flushing anyways. </p><p>Marfa sighs, “Forget watching a movie, let's go back out tonight.” </p><p>She is not successful in not seeming too eager to get up because Marfa laughs at her some more. </p><p>“Can I—?” </p><p>“Yes,” Marfa doesn’t even let her finish her question. “I’ll dress you, but at some point I’m going to take you shopping.” </p><p>Anya bites her lip against a smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Going out was far more of a process than Anya would’ve assumed. The other night was done on the fly, but tonight, Marfa dragged her down to her official room with Dunya and Polly and it became a sport all of its own. </p>
<p>It reminds her of getting ready for galas and events with her sisters. A chaos of hair and make up and a pile of discarded clothes, once beloved, now no longer fitting or looking right. </p>
<p>Given the plain and modest extent of Anya’s wardrobe, Polly and Dunya take on Anya as though she was a long forgotten childhood Barbie. </p>
<p>It’s nice, to be surrounded by the family warmth of sister camaraderie. It’s familiar to her, and she’s glad this group of friends have taken her in so easily. </p>
<p>“You have a nice complexion,” Polly comments, doing some blending on Anya’s cheek. </p>
<p>“It’s genetic,” Anya responds. “Everyone always says my sisters and I look like porcelain dolls when we were younger.”</p>
<p>“How many sisters do you have?” Dunya asks her. </p>
<p>“Three,” Anya answers. “I’m the youngest girl and then I have a younger brother.”</p>
<p>She’s probably mentioned this before but being new she’s learning means repeating the same basic information about herself over and over again. </p>
<p>“All home schooled?” This question comes from Polly, as though her and Dunya have set up a volley between the two for questions. </p>
<p>Marfa braids her hair in the windowsill and does not ask any questions. </p>
<p>“Until me,” Anya says, closing her eyes so Dunya Can apply eyeshadow. “Olga and Tatiana attend university now.” </p>
<p>“And the third sister?” Dunya asks.</p>
<p>“Senior,” she says. “She wouldn’t come with me.”</p>
<p>Anya also hadn’t tried very hard, what she had wanted was a little bit of independence and freedom. She had just wanted to go to school but for her parents it was home school or boarding school. No in between. </p>
<p>“None of us have sisters,” Polly tells her. “Just each other. Always wondered what it was like.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes it’s like I have five parents,” she admits, and Marfa lets out a snort of laughter. “I’m a bit of the problem child.” </p>
<p>Olga once accused her of acting out for attention because she was fighting for the attention given to Alexei and his illness. She had been so offended she refused to say a word to her sister for two weeks. </p>
<p>Olga when she was taking her psychology classes had been rather unbearable. </p>
<p>“Come Nastya,” Marfa declares, sliding off the windowsill and helping her stand up. “Let’s go unleash your brand of chaos into the world.” </p>
<p>Anya wraps her arms around her in a giddy hug and Marfa just rolls her eyes and pushes her away. </p>
<p>Let the night begin. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It takes all of forty five minutes for them to lose Dunya and Polly to a private corner of the night club that Marfa’s brought them to. </p>
<p>Anya’s been slowly sipping on her drink, having learned her lesson about pacing herself. </p>
<p>“They’re sweet,” Anya comments to Marfa, who is on her second drink of the night. </p>
<p>“Living together has really brought them back to the honeymoon phase,” Marfa responds with a sigh. “I’m happy for them, but happier that they’re no longer in my room.” </p>
<p>“I think there’s a romantic buried in you yet,” Anya announces, poking her on the side. </p>
<p>Marfa shoots her a look of warning, “The key word there being buried, as in dead and.” </p>
<p>Anya shrugs and leaves it be, and looks around the club. Not for anyone in particular but-</p>
<p>Marfa calls her on it anyway, “Your boy won’t be found at a place like this.” </p>
<p>“I wasn’t looking for him,” Anya replies automatically even though she probably had been. It comes out quick and defensive and Marfa just smirks at it. “And he’s not my boy.” </p>
<p>“Good thinking,” Marfa says, not unkindly. “That kind of thinking will help protect your heart in the long run.” </p>
<p>She’s not so well trained in guarded matters. “Don’t you ever want to run into something head first, arms wide?” </p>
<p>Marfa regards her for a few long moments. “Make sure to take care of yourself, Nastya.” </p>
<p>That’s a warning she’s been told by many people over many different things. She works to not bristle at it because Marfa isn’t her family and doesn’t have that history with her, and means well. </p>
<p>“I will,” she makes a promise she doesn’t know how to keep. </p>
<p>“And,” Marfa adds, finishing off her drink. “Try to play it cool the next time you see Mitya.”</p>
<p>Anya nods but doesn’t say the words to make the promise. </p>
<p>She’s certain Marfa notices anyway. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Despite Marfa’s most likely sound advice, Anya most definitely does not play it cool next time she sees Dmitry. Being detached does not come natural to her, and she finds her legs wrapped around him, and her butt pressed against a broken bathroom sink. </p>
<p>An unexpected meeting leading to unexpected results. </p>
<p>Anya’s always been bold, but she’s very emboldened by Dmitry’s presence and that seems to be a rather dangerous combination for her. </p>
<p>“What were we talking about again,” he teases afterwards, her legs still locked against him as his lips press against her jaw. </p>
<p>Marfa is never going to let her live this down. </p>
<p>And she has no idea what conversation they had leading up to this. It was nothing substantial, the magnetic pull humming between them louder than any words could be. </p>
<p>But, she gives it a try. “I believe you were saying you were going to let me drive your motorcycle.” </p>
<p>“That sounds like an innuendo,” he tells her as she finally unlocks her legs from him. </p>
<p>“Don’t even suggest I’ve earned it,” she warns him, and he helps her down as she fixes her skirt. </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t dare,” he agrees, his hand still in hers from when he helped her. “Have you ever driven a motorcycle before?” </p>
<p>She hesitates but she’s never told a lie that’s easy to get caught in, “No.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” Dmitry sighs, and then another thought seems to occur to him. “Have you ever driven a car before?” </p>
<p>Anya had been hoping he wouldn’t ask. “...no?” </p>
<p>“Why have you never driven before?” He asks her, pausing at opening the door. </p>
<p>Because her parents employed drivers and feared their children’s independence. “I’d rather not say.”</p>
<p>Dmitry looks like he can probably guess the answer anyway, but laughs when she narrows her eyes into a glare. </p>
<p>“Do you want to go back out there?” He asks her. </p>
<p>She’d rather die than have Marfa see her do a walk of shame from the bathroom so she shakes her head. “Can we sneak out the side?” </p>
<p>Dmitry nods, leading her away from the main room and out into the alley. The autumn air is a bit chilly, and the alleyway a bit too shadowed but he’s brisk in his guidance to the front of the bar. </p>
<p>“Have you ever ridden a regular bike before?” He asks her. </p>
<p>“Yes,” she says. “Does this mean you’re going to let me drive your bike?” </p>
<p>“No,” is Dmitry’s immediate response. “You’re a hazard on legs. I was just curious.” </p>
<p>“I think you’re a tease,” she decides as they come up to where Dmitry’s parked his bike. She taps on the seat. </p>
<p>“I think you’re just used to getting your way,” he returns and bends down and kisses her pout away. “You’re not well dressed for it anyway.” </p>
<p>Appropriate motorcycle attire can just be added to the shopping list then. </p>
<p>“Had I known the opportunity would arise tonight…” Anya trails off. “I would’ve planned better.” </p>
<p>She steps on the sidewalk to give her some extra height before kissing him again. </p>
<p>Then she feels a hand on her free hand tugging on it away. </p>
<p>“Come now, Princess,” Marfa tells her, pulling her away from Dmitry. “Time to get home before someone decides to do a bed check.”</p>
<p>“You’re a bit like Cinderella,” Dmitry calls after her. “The way Marfa always shows up to pull you away.” </p>
<p>“She’s my fairy godmother,” she laughs back at him, and Marfa covers her mouth before she can fully get the words out. </p>
<p>There’s magic in the autumn air at night, when you were somewhere you shouldn’t be with your new best friend and a cute boy. </p>
<p>And then the next morning she gets a phone call that breaks the entire spell.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya slowly goes numb with the news- feeling it crawl along her veins as though she’d be injected with novocaine, managing to get through most of it with her Aunt without her voice cracking. Her participation in the conversation isn’t really necessary, Xenia is more instructing her than asking her what she wants. It’s for the best- Her voice doesn’t work and she can’t process it really because her head hurts and she’s not fully awake. </p>
<p>Xenia ends the call with a promise to reach out later and that she’d contact the school on her behalf, and a sharper order to stay put. As though Anya, herself, is incapable of following orders. </p>
<p>It seems she should have been more careful for what she wished for when she had wanted some distance between her family and her. </p>
<p>The phone call ends with the phone slipping from her hands after her aunt has ended the call and there’s a frozen moment in time before the dam breaks for her. </p>
<p>She wakes Marfa up with her sobs, who makes a confused noise, and she’s faintly aware of footsteps across the room and the dip in the bed before arms gather her. </p>
<p>“Nastya, what’s wrong?” Marfa asks her, shifting when Anya takes the comfort given and buries her face against her friend’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Words can’t form, and Marfa must sense that because she just strokes her back and lets her cry. </p>
<p>It reminds Anya of when Olga used to comfort her like this and she just cries harder. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>She loses track of time, but at some point all the crying makes her throw up and when she comes back in the room Dunya arrives with tea that Marfa takes at the door. There’s hushed voices and Anya hugs the pillow to her but can’t be bothered by the fact that she’s being talked about at this moment. </p>
<p>Dunya leaves and Marfa places the tea in her hand. There’s wet spots all over Marfa’s shirts from Anya’s tears and she wants to apologize for them but her throat is raw and dry so she takes a tiny sip of tea instead. </p>
<p>Marfa tentatively pats Anya’s shoulder, and it makes Anya feel worse since Marfa is clearly not the comforting type and is going against her own to try to help Anya and she still can’t form any words. </p>
<p>She sips some more tea to avoid the pressure of having to say anything. Once that’s gone, Marfa wordlessly takes the disposable cup from her. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Anya finally manages to get out. She sure this all seems very dramatic and childish out of context. </p>
<p>“Don’t be,” Marfa responds. “There’s no apologizing in this room.” </p>
<p>Anya just nods, and folds back up on the bed, her head landing on Marfa’s lap. “I want to go to sleep.” </p>
<p>Marfa just strokes her hair in response and Anya closes her eyes. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>She wakes up to find Marfa leaning against the headboard, reading a book, with her other hand resting on Anya’s back. She sets it aside as Anya sits up, wiping at her eyes. </p>
<p>“I’m a mess,” Anya announces, the apology on the tip of her tongue before she catches herself. “I’ve been nothing but a disaster of a roommate.” </p>
<p>“You’ve certainly kept things interesting,” Marfa says kindly. “You ready to talk about it? You were in a rather good mood last night.” </p>
<p>Anya takes a breath, suddenly hating how all her emotions fit on her sleeve. “It’s not about Dmitry.” </p>
<p>“I should hope not,” Marfa says, a lightness attempted in her voice. “No boy is worth that many tears over.” </p>
<p>She lets out a watery laugh. It’s a lot of effort to be sitting up right now. She lays back down on the bed, putting her head in Marfa’s lap again. </p>
<p>She’d never known what homesickness felt like until now. </p>
<p>“My family was in an accident,” she says finally. Saying the words out loud doesn’t make them real- it happened whether she says it or not, but it feels more real for her to have said it. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Marfa breathes. “Is…?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she picks up her phone to look at it. No missed calls or new messages. Her phone has never been so quiet before. “Maria and Tatiana have been released, they were mostly bruised. My little brother they think...they think he has a broken leg or something, he’s in surgery. He’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “They don’t know about my parents or Olga.” </p>
<p>Marfa’s arms wrap around her to pull her back into a hug. “Do you have to go back home?”</p>
<p>Anya’s chin wobbles, “No, they don’t want me there.” Marfa pulls back to look at her. “They don’t think it was an accident and don’t think it’s safe for me to go back.” </p>
<p>And there’s the worst part. She’s put herself in exile from her family and now she can’t even go back when she wants to. </p>
<p>Xenia was very specific about that. There’s enough worry to go around, and her coming home will only bring more on them. </p>
<p>It hurts to be stuck so far away. Even if there’s nothing she can do if she does go home. But there’s something in her that needs to see her parents and older sisters and younger brother as if that’ll bring them back to good health. </p>
<p>Her parents have always been paranoid about their children’s safety and guarded them from their past and business and apparently it was well founded fears.</p>
<p>She can’t think about that right now. </p>
<p>She really can’t think about any of it right now. </p>
<p>“Okay,” Marfa says. “You need to eat. How are you feeling about going out?” Anya shakes her head. “Okay, we can bring food to you.” She’s not hungry but she doesn't have the energy to argue with Marfa either. “Do you want to be alone? Do you want the other girls to come over?” </p>
<p>Anya thinks about it for a moment. “They can come over.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have them pick up some food for us,” Marfa tells her, grabbing her own phone to send out a text.</p>
<p>Anya realizes that Marfa’s been taking care of her all day and hasn’t been able to eat or anything. </p>
<p>“You guys don’t have to stay if you don’t want,” she speaks up, not wanting to take up any more of their day. </p>
<p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” is Marfa’s no nonsense response to that. </p>
<p>Dunya and Polly show up later with some bland sandwiches and chips and enough noise to help block out the noise in her head for a few hours at least. </p>
<p>Her phone remains quiet the rest of the night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya feels mostly okay after a day or so, but her phone haunts her with radio silence. No news is good news she attempts to remind herself but there’s so many skeletons in her family’s closet she’s not certain if anyone would tell her if things had changed for the worse or if they’d wait for whatever they deemed as a more appropriate time. </p>
<p>She pretends to live in her own room for a few hours as administrators and resident directors come to see her. They make arrangements for her to do her coursework online and with one on one tutoring for the time being. It’s a gross example of special treatment and she’d feel bad for it if she wasn’t currently attending a school made specifically for special treatment of the rich and privileged. </p>
<p>Instead she drinks soup and does trigonometry in her pajamas. </p>
<p>Marfa’s hardly left her side and the other two girls stop by, changing out of their uniforms and into pajamas and coming to spend time in Marfa and Anya’s room as an act of solidarity. </p>
<p>She tells them to go out and have fun, but they steadfastly refuse. They stay inside and braid her hair and do her nails and bring her a different style of French fry every night. </p>
<p>And then the silence gets to her one night and she finds herself reaching for her phone and looking up her family’s name and the accident and scrolling through horrid image after image of her parents crumpled up car that doesn’t look like it left much room for anyone to come out alive. She finds that their driver had died- he’s been with the family since before Anya- before Olga was born and no one thought to mention that to her at all. </p>
<p>She cries some more and Marfa crawls into bed with her and hides her phone from her and in the morning before she heads to class forces her to promise to never google another goddamn thing and to stay off of social media. </p>
<p>Anya’s halfway through the reading for her lit class when her phone lights up with a familiar phone number and her heart stops and she suddenly doesn’t want to pick up. </p>
<p>She forces herself to answer, “Hey Vik.” </p>
<p>Her older sister’s boyfriend Viktor Zborovsky. They’d grown up with her and his younger sister, Katya. She can’t tell if it’s good or bad that he’d be the one reaching out to her for the first time since Xenia called. </p>
<p>“Hey kid,” he says and she wrinkles her nose at the nickname but doesn’t call him on it. “No change, but I realized you probably weren’t kept in the loop.” </p>
<p>“Was told to stay put and that I’d be called with an update,” she tells him. “Nothing since.” </p>
<p>She tries not to let any of the bitterness cut in that none of her sisters- Maria or Tatiana- have attempted to reach out to her. It’s expected the adults wouldn’t think to include her but her sisters certainly should’ve. </p>
<p>As if he can read her mind, Viktor says, “Your sisters’ phones were smashed in the crash, haven’t gotten around to replacing them.” He sighs, sounding tired. “Ria broke her right wrist so she hasn’t been able to do much and Tanya is during school online now and has thrown herself into that.” </p>
<p>School would be more important to Tatiana than keeping in touch with her youngest sister. </p>
<p>“Where are they?” </p>
<p>“Staying with us right now,” Viktor replies. “Safer that way. Alexei has been moved to your grandmother’s.” </p>
<p>And her parents and Olga were still in the hospital with no change in their consciousness. </p>
<p>“Thanks for thinking of me,” she says after a long moment of silence. She’s not certain if this talk has made her feel better or worse. </p>
<p>“Miss you kid,” Viktor tells her. “I know it’s annoying but you’re better off where you are now than here. Here is...a fucking mess.” </p>
<p>“Miss you too,” Anya replies. “Where is Masha?” </p>
<p>“Sleeping,” he answers. “She does that a lot these days. She does want to talk to you, it's just...hard.” </p>
<p>It’s hard for Anya to be thousands of miles away but no one takes issue with that on her behalf. </p>
<p>“Tell her I love her,” is what Anya says out loud, for once trying to remain in control of her temper. </p>
<p>“She loves you too,” Viktor says. “I’ll call you again sometime tomorrow, I promise.” </p>
<p>She tugs on the end of the braid Polly did in her hair this morning. “Can you promise me something else, Vik?” </p>
<p>“Of course.” </p>
<p>“Promise to always tell me the truth,” Anya demands because she knows she can’t ask anyone else in her family the same courtesy. </p>
<p>He lets out a breath, “You got it, Anya.” There’s a noise in the background. “I have to go but I’ll call tomorrow.” </p>
<p>“Bye,” she says softly before hanging up the phone and going back to her book. </p>
<p>Anya would cry but the well inside of her feels all dried up. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Later that night Marfa is making designs on Anya’s toenails when her phone lights up again, but this time it’s a number she doesn’t recognize at all. She stares at it a long moment, her heart hammering in her chest and she forgets how to breathe for a second. </p>
<p>It seems more ominous if a number she doesn’t recognize is calling her than when Viktor called her earlier. </p>
<p>She finally remembers how to move to answer it. </p>
<p>“Hello?” </p>
<p>“Is this Anya?” Is the response, and the voice is somewhat familiar but her brain can’t quite place it. </p>
<p>Anya worries her lower lip with her teeth, “This is.” </p>
<p>“It’s Dmitry,” he tells her, and relief floods her body and she leans back against the pillows on the bed. “A friend gave me your number, I hope that’s okay?” </p>
<p>“A friend did?” Anya returns, her body starting to come back alive from its numb state. She sits up enough to see Marfa slink away at that. “What’s up?” </p>
<p>“Heard you might need a distraction,” he tells her. “You up for a ride tonight?” </p>
<p>“Do I get to drive?” It surprises her, how easy she slips back into the persona of who she had been around him just a week before. </p>
<p>Dmitry lets out a soft laugh, “No, but I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” </p>
<p>She wants to go home, but that’s not an option at the moment so she’ll have to settle for the second place she wants to go most. </p>
<p>“I’ll hold you to that,” Anya responds, braid twisting around her finger. </p>
<p>“Pick you up in an hour?” </p>
<p>She nods before realizing he can’t see her. “See you then.”</p>
<p>Anya’s barely hung up the phone before Marfa’s sitting on her bed again. A thought occurs to her. </p>
<p>“You didn’t tell Dmitry what happened, did you?” She asks. She wants to see him but a pity date will only make her feel worse. </p>
<p>“Nope,” Marfa tells her, patting her leg. “Just that you needed a distraction.” </p>
<p>“I do,” Anya says. Her phone has been silent save for Viktor’s call and too much time alone makes her want to pull up the news despite the promise she made to Marfa earlier. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome,” Marfa says, and tugs on Anya’s braid before standing up. “Might want to shower before he gets here.” </p>
<p>Happy to have a purpose and a distraction, Anya gets up and stretches. “Make me pretty after?” </p>
<p>Marfa swats at her, “You’re already beautiful but I’ll do my best.” </p>
<p>Anya sticks her tongue out at her and gets stuff together for a shower. </p>
<p>She gets to be someone else for the next few hours at least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dmitry shows up, he says that he’ll take her anywhere, but the only place Anya wants to go at that moment is back to his place. Wrapping herself around him on the bike, him solid beneath her hands, and she feels more like a person than she has all week. </p>
<p>She can’t even track of what he must think of her at the moment but it’s freeing, being on the back of the bike, being with him and not having to think. </p>
<p>There’s an anxiety of missing a call or text, or receiving news when she’s out here but she tries to clear her mind and enjoy the break she’s given herself. </p>
<p>They make it to his apartment door before they’re tangled around each other and he’s lifted her in the air and she sighs against his mouth in relief. She feels needy and clingy and hot and she cycles through trying to process all the emotions at once. </p>
<p>She hasn’t felt something, really, in days and they all come up to the surface at his fingertips. The bed is soft beneath her, and air cool against her skin, and her hips are gripped by Dmitry’s hands as he works his tongue against her. </p>
<p>Anya hasn’t had a single thought in her mind this entire time and it feels so good to let go off all the stress, anxiety and tension of the week. However, when she comes undone, she literally comes undone and all her pent up emotions tumble out without any control. </p>
<p>She wipes at her eyes, trying to rid herself of the tears before her sees her, but he gently moves her hand away from her face and is looking at her with such genuine concern it takes all her willpower to not start crying again. </p>
<p>“Hey,” he says softly, and the pads of his thumbs clean up her tears better than her attempt. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>In addition to everything else in her life she now has to live with the knowledge of mortifyingly being known as the girl who cried after he went down on her in his stories. </p>
<p>What she says, however, is, “Nothing. Just a bit of Catholic guilt.” </p>
<p>He arches an eyebrow at that, and she supposes if she didn’t cry after having sex in a public bathroom than it’s unlikely that it was oral that finally got to her. </p>
<p>Catholic guilt is nothing if not selective. </p>
<p>“Hold on,” he says and reaches around her to pull a sweater off the floor and she pulls it on. It’s soft and smells of lemongrass and nearly reaches her knees. “That help?” </p>
<p>She tugs the sleeves over her hands and wants to shrink inside of it. So much for being someone else. “Yes, modesty solves all.” </p>
<p>He smiles and she leans over and kisses him and he lets her. She’s not certain now if it’s out of pity but it feels nice and grounds her. </p>
<p>“What do you need?” Dmitry asks her, leaning over her. </p>
<p>A new brain, apparently. And for him to not be so nice and sweet to her. This is supposed to be casual and fun, and she’s ruining it by being an emotional mess. </p>
<p>“Nothing,” she answers. “I’m okay.” </p>
<p>He still looks concerned and now leans up to kiss that expression away. Dmitry smiles when he pulls away, and she presses her finger against his dimple. </p>
<p>“I think you need a grilled cheese sandwich,” he tells her, and her stomach gurgles in response, and taps it before getting up. “American or cheddar?” </p>
<p>“Cheddar,” she says, sitting up and watching as he puts together the tools necessary to make a grilled cheese sandwich in his boxers. “You don’t have to…” </p>
<p>Dmitry waves that off, “I’m hungry too.” </p>
<p>Anya lets it drop, and moves to sit at the counter that acts as a room divider. “What other specialities do you have here, other than Cookie Crisp and Grilled Cheese sandwiches?” </p>
<p>“I’m afraid it’s a rather limited menu here at Chez Sudayev,” he responds. “It doesn’t go much beyond that.” </p>
<p>It occurs to Anya that she did not know his last name before now. “That is a very Russian name you have.” </p>
<p>“Got myself a patronymic as well,” he tells her. It makes sense, given he has said he was born in Russia but </p>
<p>“Guess you get to keep your Russian card after all,” she attempts to tease but her chest feels heavy again. “Me too.”</p>
<p>It was a bitch to learn when her tutors were teaching her how to spell her name. Her entire name was a bitch to learn, which is why she had decided to go by Anya.  </p>
<p>Four letters. So simple. </p>
<p>He glances over at her sliding the sandwich onto her plate. “And your last name?” </p>
<p>Anya freezes because on most days her last name was vaguely recognizable, but these days her last name was inescapable. And she’s not certain if she wants to give up that level of not being known by her family name. </p>
<p>Or by the tragedy she’s currently going through. </p>
<p>She takes a bite of her sandwich instead and he just plates his own sandwich. </p>
<p>But it’s also stupid to hide when it’s so easily found out. </p>
<p>“Romanova,” she answers, tearing at the crust of her sandwich. </p>
<p>Dmitry chokes a little bit and turns  around to grab a water bottle from the fridge, “Oh, you’re that kind of rich.” She scrunches her nose at that. Then he looks a bit serious and she knows that’s when he remembers. “So your…”</p>
<p>“Parents, siblings,” she responds, and his hand is on her arm and she shrugs it off. “I don’t…”</p>
<p>He holds up a hand, “Are you serious about learning to ride?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she answers, though she’s not certain if she should be so eager to learn after her family was injured in a crash. But it was an intentional thing and it’s so hard for her to feel anything these days. “But please don’t take pity on me, you’re not my boyfriend and I don’t expect you to be.” Dmitry’s nice and so he looks like his first instinct is to argue with her. “I am not looking for anything more than casual.”</p>
<p>Look at her, no one would want her and her emotional baggage in a relationship and honestly she can barely handle just sex at the moment based on her earlier reaction. </p>
<p>“Anya,” Dmitry says, leaning forward. “We can have all the casual sex you want.” She snorts a giggle at that and he smiles back at her. “But we can also be friends.” </p>
<p>“Benefits with friends?” She teases and he nods leaning over and kisses her lips. “I don’t want pity.”</p>
<p>“Anya,” he responds. “I don’t just let anyone drive my bike, no matter how pitiful circumstances may be.” </p>
<p>“Promise?” Anya asks, holding up her pinky. </p>
<p>Dmitry reaches over and hooks his with hers. </p>
<p>Okay, she can handle having another new friend at this moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What sort of trouble are you getting into?” Katya Zborovsky asks her one night when she’s called to check in on her. </p>
<p>“None at all,” Anya replies as she walks around the corner of her school to hop on the back of a motorcycle with a boy she slept with less than twelve hours of meeting him. </p>
<p>Katya laughs because she knows Anya is a liar. She tells Anya not to be careful and not cause anymore stress, sounding very much like one of her sisters. </p>
<p>Anya hangs up and makes sure to wear the motorcycle helmet Dmitry offers her before getting on the bike. </p>
<p>She’s 110% being safe. </p>
<p>Even later, when they’re in an isolated field and there’s nothing underneath her but Dmitry’s jacket and the grass and her body is being brought to the point of blissful oblivion, there’s a degree of precaution and protection involved. </p>
<p>He takes her to the boardwalk for hot dogs after they’ve gotten the grass stains off of them the best they can. </p>
<p>Anya lets him order for her, and it by far looks like the most disgusting thing she’s ever seen in her life- ketchup, mustard and relish are all involved, but it’s weirdly satisfying to eat. </p>
<p>“Are you always so hungry after sex?” He questions her, as she reaches over to steal a fry from him. </p>
<p>She has no idea, considering she’s only had sex with him but being known as the girl who eats after sex is far better than being known for that one time she cried. “Seems to be.” She glances over at him, she wore his jacket after they picked it up off the ground and shook it out, so he’s just in a brown sweater now. “Is it a Pavlovian response just to feed me now?” </p>
<p>“Must be,” he agrees and holds the container of fries out of her grasp. “You can buy more fries over at the food truck.” </p>
<p>“Too far away,” she says and he does give in and lower it again. “Plus your wallet is in your jacket so you’d be paying for them anyway.” </p>
<p>Dmitry snorts a laugh at that, and hands the container over to her. What a victory. </p>
<p>“How was school?” He asks her, and she stuffs a fry in her mouth. </p>
<p>This was the friendship portion of the evening. He always waited until after sex to ease her into conversation about actual things, she can’t tell if it’s out of respect for the boundaries she set or he was afraid she wouldn’t have sex with him if he tried to be her friend first. </p>
<p>“I started attending classes in person again,” she tells him. “I sit next to Marfa in most of them, even though there’s supposed to be a couple S’s between them.” </p>
<p>A perk, if one could call it that, of her family tragedy is that they were afraid she’d break any moment so they allowed some things to pass. </p>
<p>It’s not because she’s rich because most of them already have that to their advantage. </p>
<p>Plus, she’d already broke- she’d confessed to Marfa about the whole crying thing in the middle of the night because it was still mortifying to her and she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head when she tried to sleep. Marfa had laughed and said he can just tell people that he was so good that it brought her to tears. Anya had thrown a pillow at her in response. </p>
<p>“And the actual class content?” </p>
<p>Anya shrugs. As someone who was homeschooled she’s ahead of the curve when it comes to most subjects. “Unimportant. What about your class content?” </p>
<p>“It’s senior year in a public school,” he responds. “There is no class content, we just get points if we actually manage to show up.” </p>
<p>She’s pretty certain Dmitry is actually smart- truly book smart- but he will never admit it and so instead she just gets these glib answers. </p>
<p>Not that she wants or expects a deep connection with him. </p>
<p>Still, Anya worries her lower lip and dips a French fry in vinegar. “My sister woke up.” </p>
<p>She had gotten that call the night before from her Aunt, the first time she’s reached out to her since initially telling her about the accident so she supposes Xenia was serious about only contacting her when there was actual news. </p>
<p>This time he reaches over and takes a fry from her and shakes his head as she tries to move it out of his range- however she’s much shorter than he is and so he has an advantage. </p>
<p>“And how is she doing?” He asks, resting his hand on her knee. </p>
<p>“Conscious,” Anya says. Maria is supposed to call her tomorrow from the hospital room. She’s not talked to any of her sisters except Tatiana and Maria have sent a few texts, so this will be the first time she actually gets to see them and hear their voices. “Has a couple bruised ribs, but they think she will make a full recovery.” </p>
<p>Her parents fate was a little more in limbo, but as little as she’s been told about her sister, she’s been told even less about her parents. </p>
<p>She hates being here, so far away from them, so inaccessible. It would be better if she was from a family that communicates but the little she’s told just makes her feel so helpless. </p>
<p>And the more helpless she feels, the more she tries to control her own destiny with reckless decisions. </p>
<p>Anya’s been to a therapist enough to recognize these things about her and just sort of wave at herself as she watches herself do it. </p>
<p>“That’s good,” Dmitry begins and looks like he’s about to say more, so Anya jumps up, disposing of the empty food containers. </p>
<p>“You haven’t taught me how to ride yet,” she points out when she returns, tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. </p>
<p>“That’s what I brought you out to the field for,” he admits. “You distracted me.” </p>
<p>Anya scrunches her nose in response, “You can’t keep using that excuse.”</p>
<p>No matter how valid it may be, now that she thinks about it. </p>
<p>Anya has always been her own worst enemy. </p>
<p>“Tomorrow?” </p>
<p>“Have a call with my sisters,” she tells him. She almost bends down to kiss him, because she’s standing and he’s still sitting but then remembers they’re at the friendship portion of the evening. </p>
<p>“This weekend then?” He asks and she nods. “I’m telling you in advance so you only have yourself to blame if we get off track.”</p>
<p>The urge to kiss him passes and she whacks him in the arm instead. </p>
<p>She’s never really been friends with a boy before- her brother and Viktor notwithstanding (and Viktor is practically her brother at this point) but sort of likes being friends with Dmitry. </p>
<p>She just likes the benefits so much more, is what she tells herself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya’s call with her sisters gets canceled, lending her to a bad mood and she stays inside all weekend and watches old sitcoms in the dorm room with Marfa, Dunya and Polly instead of having adventures with Dmitry. </p>
<p>Dmitry and her have fun and he’s been sweet the night she broke down about the accident but she doesn’t want to expose him to any black moods or whatever else it was brewing under her skin. </p>
<p>Plus she could only use him for a crutch so long before she would seem to have completely ditched the girls that have befriended her. </p>
<p>So a weekend of crumbs and pajamas and the warmth of friendship that almost makes her feel like she’s back with her sisters and brother. </p>
<p>Olga had a set back and they didn’t want to overwhelm her in the hospital with Anya, apparently. </p>
<p>She knows she’s made this decision to be independent from them but being left out of the family at this time of need twists her inside in a way she hadn’t anticipated. </p>
<p>Separate wasn’t supposed to mean left out. </p>
<p>“How are you parents?” Paulina asks softly, or as softly as she can in between bites of cool ranch Doritos. </p>
<p>“No change,” Anya frowns at that, she’s unpeeled a twizzler but hasn’t eaten any of the string yet. “Everyone likes to focus on Olga more.”</p>
<p>It makes her heart thud in a painful way, as though they didn’t think it was worth sparing a thought her parents might actually make it. </p>
<p>She’s watched them protect her little brother from everything her whole life but she never allowed it to happen to her, back home she wriggled her way into the middle of everything. </p>
<p>She’s just on the outside now so the older sibling shield has gone up. </p>
<p>“Did they make plans to reschedule?” Dunya asks. </p>
<p>“They hope Monday,” she says. She’s not one to get her hopes up. </p>
<p>They seem to keep being crushed lately. </p>
<p>“But they still text?” Marfa asks and Anya confirms with a nod. “What do you need from us?”</p>
<p>“More sour cream and cheese chips,” she requests and Polly leans forward to toss her the bag. </p>
<p>Mostly she just needs her head to clear and to stop working overtime, but she doesn’t know how to do that at all. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“You’re so dramatic,” Olga complains, as Tatiana reaches behind her to adjust her pillows. Maria is holding the phone as they are gathered to talk. It’s at a bit of a tilt, as she’s holding it with the wrong hand as the other wrist is still in a cast from the accident. </p>
<p>It’s Thursday, not Monday and nearly a week after they were all supposed to do this but she’s overwhelmed by the sight of her sisters she can’t bring herself to complain. </p>
<p>“Me?” Anya asks, “I haven’t said anything.” </p>
<p>“I meant all of you,” she grumbles, because she’s terrible at being taken care of. She’s put all her energy into taking care of the four of them most of her life. “And your eyes were speaking.”</p>
<p>“I’ll poke them out,” Anya promises.</p>
<p>Olga lets out a breath, “See? Dramatic.”</p>
<p>“I was going for funny!” Anya protests and she can hear Maria snort behind the phone. “I thought I was supposed to see all of you.” </p>
<p>“Masha has a hickey she doesn’t want you to see,” Tatiana throws out. “She doesn’t want to lose her good girl image to you.” </p>
<p>“She’s been tormenting me since I was born,” she reminds them. “She lost that luster by the age of five.”</p>
<p>Maria makes a noise of protesting, and Olga looks like she wants to scold both of them. </p>
<p>“Nonna is letting you stay at the Zborovsky’s because they’re friends, not a brothel,” Tatiana says, imitating their Aunt Xenia as she says it. It certainly sounds like something Xenia would’ve said outloud.” </p>
<p>“There’s a business idea if they’re ever low on funds,” Anya suggests, drawing her sisters’ irritation back to her. </p>
<p>It feels comfortable and familiar at least. Like she still belongs. </p>
<p>“Don’t even suggest it to Vik,” Maria warns, and she leans over so she’s in frame, her red curls obscuring part of her face as she does so. </p>
<p>Anya brushes that off. She’s alone in her dorm room, Marfa left to give her privacy before the call happened. “How’s Alexei?” </p>
<p>“Much better,” Tatiana answers her. “They were worried the most about him, but he seems to have recovered the quickest.”</p>
<p>Maybe his body was just used to having to recover. </p>
<p>More likely, they had just gotten really lucky. </p>
<p>“I’m recovered!” Olga insists, even though she just suffered a setback days before and is the one still in a hospital bed. </p>
<p>“Olya’s body is taking full advantage of this break to make sure it actually rests,” Maria speaks up. “But enough of our ailments, how is school?”</p>
<p>“Far away,” Anya says. “Everyone’s really nice here though.”</p>
<p>At least she had a group of friends to take care of her like sisters. And someone to distract her like Dmitry, even if that wasn’t as effective as it used to be. It wasn’t him, it was all the churning her brain was doing over her family. </p>
<p>“You’re lucky you are,” Olga tells her, in a very familiar big sister voice tone. “If you were here, who knows what would’ve happened to you.” </p>
<p>Anya’s lower lip trembles because she understands what she means but she rather thinks she’d rather them all go through it together. “How’s Nonna?”</p>
<p>“Bossing around everyone at the hospital and keeping Alexei in line,” Tatiana says. </p>
<p>There’s a beep in the room. </p>
<p>“I think I have to be taken for some tests,” Olga explains. Then softly, “We will do this again sometime soon, okay?”</p>
<p>Anya nods as they all give their goodbyes. </p>
<p>She curls up in the middle of her bed afterwards, feeling more alone than she had before she had seen and talked to her sisters. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Marfa brings her back a burger from wherever she had gone during the phone call, and sits on the bed with her as Anya picks at it. </p>
<p>“How were your sisters?” She asks, taking a fry that had come with the burger as well. </p>
<p>“Better than I was expecting,” Anya says truthfully. “They all seemed very much themselves.”</p>
<p>With hospitalizations and injuries she’d expected things to be a little worse or quieter. But her sisters were as she remembered them. </p>
<p>She’d felt changed for months. </p>
<p>“Good thing or bad thing?”</p>
<p>“Good,” she responds. She wants her sisters to be themselves. </p>
<p>And she wants to be herself, but it’s starting to feel like her independence or quest for it has come at the cost of the rest of her family. Logically she knows she’s not responsible for the accident and it’s not something the universe did in response to her rebellion but it’s getting difficult to separate the ideas lately. </p>
<p>And was she even herself her or just a meaningless teenage rebellion to prove something to herself?  </p>
<p>Anya feels useless here most days, and knows it’s unhealthy to cling to the things she had to keep her distracted and occupied. </p>
<p>Her family was falling apart but at least she was staying up late, drinking and having sex? Every action felt so pointless when she felt like she was going to lose part or all of her family any day. </p>
<p>“You look very deep in thought over that cheeseburger,” Marfa says, reaching over to poke her on the knee. </p>
<p>She can feel the words inside her, forming even though they’ve been there under the surface for weeks. And she can tell that Marfa’s been expecting them even before she says them. </p>
<p>Still, she needs to say them outloud to make them real. </p>
<p>“I think I need to go home.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. epilogue: six years later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>six years later</i>
</p>
<p>It’s too easy to fall out of touch with people, especially when one big life event after another keeps happening. Anya left boarding school, showed up on the Zborovskys’ doorstep, and received a lecture from all her siblings before a hug. Then she went to stay with her brother at their grandmother’s. </p>
<p>In the following months her siblings healed from all their ailments, though Olga needed some assistance with walking and couldn’t do it for long stretches, and Alexei had several setbacks and hospital stays before he was cleared, her parents both passed within days of each other and she doesn’t remember the bleak time following that. </p>
<p>Then her grandmother brought her and Alexei to France to finish out their education and to give them a chance to breathe. Tatiana came along, and started working for her grandmother’s company. Maria wouldn’t leave Viktor and Olga was stubborn and refused to give up the life she had started there. </p>
<p>Anya finished up high school the same way she started it (at home and with tutors) and college (thankfully the traditional way) in Paris before deciding to return home, but there’s a long overdue stop on her way there. </p>
<p>Not that there’s really any place that’s considered home any more. </p>
<p>Olga lives in the shell of the home, but it’s not the same place it once meant to all of them. Anya’s never been one to cling to the past, especially not after everything she’s had to go through. </p>
<p>“Nastya!” Comes a yell, and she finds arms wrapped around her. “You look even hotter in person.” </p>
<p>“Pixelated me is so offended,” Anya returns, hugging her back. “I thought you weren’t a hugger?”</p>
<p>Marfa kisses her on the cheek before letting her go. “I’ll allow one good hug after not seeing you in person for six years.”</p>
<p>“You could’ve come to Paris,” Anya points out, falling into step behind her to step into the bar as though six years hadn’t passed at all. “You should’ve come to Paris.”</p>
<p>This is leaving out the obvious suggestion of what she herself could’ve done before this exact moment. </p>
<p>“How boujie of you to suggest,” Marfa tells her, stepping back to look at her fully.“I’m glad you’ve learned how to dress yourself.” </p>
<p>“It’s amazing what age and picking out your own clothes can do,” she says, though she lets Marfa order for her. It seems weirdly forbidden, being at this bar now that she’s legally allowed to be. “How’s everyone?” </p>
<p>“Dunya and Polly are still disgustingly in love,” Marfa informs her casually. “But if you’ve talked to them lately you already know that.”</p>
<p>It’s true. They’d gone renegade after graduation, cutting family ties and moving in together. Clearly they’d know their future and kept choosing it over and over again. They don’t live nearby anymore, but she plans to visit them sometime soon after this trip. </p>
<p>Anya doesn’t know how to ask about Dmitry. </p>
<p>He was the first one she’d truly lost touch with, and she never knew how to casually reach out to him. It’s not anything bad had happened or anything had gone down between them. There was so much happening and all the distance made it difficult. They worked better when they were physically in the same space rather than apart. </p>
<p>She also felt like she had been tethered to him and the only way to fully be back with her family was to cut herself free. </p>
<p>Her late teens were a stumbling block of poor decisions. </p>
<p>“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” Marfa tells her, as they head to the back of the bar. “Was starting to think you were some sheltered rich kid hallucination.”</p>
<p>Anya pinches the skin on her arm, pulling it up to show Marfa. “Very real. Still probably kind of sheltered.” </p>
<p>Marfa rolls her eyes, and pushes her towards the bar. “Go warm up, I need another drink already.”</p>
<p>“We have dartboards in France,” Anya calls after her, but laughs. It’s a relief to have friends you can always return home to. No matter how much time has passed and much shit they give you. </p>
<p>She’s just hit a bullseye when someone brushes by her, jolting her slightly. Her body recognizes it before her brain does, so she’s already half expecting it when the person stops and turns and says,</p>
<p>“I thought I told Spektor to keep the boarding school crowd away from here.”</p>
<p>“Good thing I’ve graduated then,” Anya says, and she’s not prepared to turn around and see Dmitry again but she does and her heart should not race the same way it did as a teenager seeing him, but it does. “Dima.” </p>
<p>“Anya,” he says and she leaps up to hug him, unable to control her impulses now she’s back in the place in time, and he spins her around, much to the annoyance of the other people in the bar near them. And much to the delight of her, she’s not felt weightless in long time. </p>
<p>She pulls a face when he sets her down but her hands still clutch his shoulders as she asks, “You still hang out at this bar?” </p>
<p>Dmitry laughs, looking around briefly before returning his gaze to her, “No, but Marf was rather insistent I meet up with her here tonight. I saw her when I came in and she told me to meet her back here.” </p>
<p>“She’s got a bad habit of leaving the two of us alone,” Anya comments, and she’s pretty certain she won’t see Marfa again that night. She should be annoyed, but she’s not. “I still don’t know how to ride a motorcycle.” </p>
<p>“You left abruptly and never gave me a chance to,” he reminds her. “But I have one at my place if you’d like to see it.”</p>
<p>It’s another choice for her to make, even if so much of what she’s done in her life has been brushed aside as impulsiveness. </p>
<p>This is deliberate. </p>
<p>Anya gets on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against his. “Sure, but you don’t have to teach me until the morning.”</p>
<p>There are some things worth returning to.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>